


One night (between the bars)

by Poetgirl925



Series: The Head and the Heart [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Divergence - No Hydra Takeover, F/M, Humor, Meet-Cute, One Night Stands, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2591933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetgirl925/pseuds/Poetgirl925
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Skyeward. Skye's week is on a serious downhill slide. A mission goes wrong, and her boyfriend turns out to be a lying douche - and that's only Tuesday. But a chance encounter one night with Grant Ward changes everything. Part 1 of 'The Head and the Heart' series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One night (between the bars)

**A/N: Rating… R? It’s more sensual as opposed to explicit in my opinion, but be warned there are sexy times ahead!**

Skye slid onto the red leather bar stool and dropped her phone back into her bag with a sigh. She had made plans with Fitz and Jemma to meet at McGillevrey’s, a pub popular with a lot of D.C.’s agency types because of its proximity to both the CIA headquarters and the Triskelion. Featuring dark wood interior and exposed ceiling beams, it was low key, with flat screen TVs showing the latest sporting events, a few pool tables and dart boards in the back, and a bartending staff that was discreet and minded their own business. Unfortunately, both Jemma and Fitz had gotten caught up in a new project and weren’t going to be able to make it, which left Skye drowning her sorrows alone for the evening.

And it had been a hell of a week.

The week had begun on a good note. She’d finally received her Level 2 clearance, and consequently she’d graduated to doing background and planning for more interesting missions than the previous grunt work she’d been assigned. But while Monday had dawned auspiciously, Tuesday had proven to be the bitch that kept slapping her down for the remainder of the week.

First, a mission she’d done background on went to hell because some of the intel with which she’d been provided was faulty. Logically, Skye knew that wasn’t her fault, and Coulson had taken a moment to speak with her to make sure she was okay. But two agents had been killed and another badly injured, and Skye couldn’t help going over the details in her mind again and again, wondering if she could have prevented it all by digging just a little bit deeper.

At the end of the day she’d surprised her boyfriend, Mike Westing, by showing up at his office unannounced, hoping to convince him to leave early for a change. As a junior accountant with a top D.C. firm, he was working longer hours leading up to tax season; since her own work hours with SHIELD were random during missions, she had no right to complain.

However, her surprise visit backfired on both of them in a spectacular manner when she caught Mike kissing his assistant, Ashley. He’d followed her out and tried to explain it away as a fluke, but Skye was finally putting the pieces together and realizing two plus two equaled four in this situation. Ashley had been friendly when Skye and Mike first started going out, but her attitude had chilled considerably in the last two months. It couldn’t be a coincidence when paired with the fact that Mike had been staying late at the office four weeknights out of five and spending at least half of each Saturday there as well.

On Wednesday she’d caught the heel of a pair of Jimmy Choos – a birthday gift from Coulson, Jemma, Fitz, and Tripp, and the only pair of designer shoes she’d ever owned – in a sewer grate. The heel had snapped right off, and she’d proceeded to limp unevenly the rest of the way to work that morning. That night on her way home it started to rain, and a taxi rounding a corner at an alarming speed splashed her from head to toe with dirty water.

When a pipe burst in her bathroom early on Thursday morning, Skye was convinced that the universe was trying to tell her something. She’d called the super to deal with that and had hung around to make sure he had things in hand before making her way into the office. Jemma and Fitz had suggested a night out on Friday since both of them were worried about her ever sinking mood, and she’d latched onto the idea like a drowning person clung to a life preserver.

Yet here she sat, alone. She knew it wasn’t the two scientists’ fault, but that didn’t really make her feel better. They’d both been called into some new, top secret project involving an 0-8-4 recovered during a high level mission that week, and they couldn’t exactly say no. It was the nature of the agency – work came first.

As if sensing Skye’s thoughts, her phone buzzed again. Knowing it was probably Jemma, she pulled out the phone and saw she was correct.

_Jemma: I’m really so sorry, Skye. If there were any way we could get out of this, we would. Are you sure you’re okay?_

Skye sighed and sent back her own message.

_Skye: I told you I’m fine. Really. I’m just going to have a couple of beers and chat with A.J. here at the bar, maybe drown my sorrows in chili cheese fries. Then home to sleep for 24 hours and try to forget this week happened._

_Jemma: Call or send a message when you get home. I’ll call you tomorrow. xo_

_Skye: Yup. Have fun with your project_

Slipping her phone back into her bag, Skye looked up to see A.J. standing before her. “Not coming, huh?”

She shook her head. “Work.”

He nodded, needing no further explanation. A.J. was the son of a retired SHIELD operative and was well aware of the sense of duty that went along with the job. While he’d never been tempted down that particular career path, he had opened McGillevrey’s with a partner in order to provide a safe haven for agents. It was a place to unwind and forget the stressors that agents dealt with on a daily basis.

“Without giving me any top secret details, wanna talk about whatever’s got you so down tonight?” A.J asked, his blue eyes showing concern. “This isn’t like you.”

“How much time do you have?” Skye asked ruefully, propping her elbows on the bar.

A.J. motioned to another bartender to take over his side of the bar and pulled a chair over. “All the time you need.”

Skye kept the details scarce on work. “There was a screw-up at work and two people died. Someone else was injured.”

“Your screw-up?”

She shook her head. “No, but it was something I was a part of, so I still feel some responsibility.”

“Yeah, I know how that works. My old man carried the weight of the world some weeks.” A.J. reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Platinum Label Scotch whisky, sliding it over to her along with a tumbler. “I think this calls for something better than beer.”

“It gets worse,” Skye told him, watching as he poured the amber liquid. She accepted the tumbler and took a sip. “Mike’s been cheating on me with his assistant. I’m not the most trusting girl in the world, but I did _not_ see that coming at all. I ruined my Jimmy Choos – the ones I got for my birthday. A taxi sprayed me with gutter water, and then a pipe burst in my bathroom yesterday because of that early freeze we had the night before. Damn D.C. winters.”

A.J. eyed her with sympathy. “That’s a lot of suck for one week. Bottle’s on the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t…” she protested.

“Skye, you updated my computers and wouldn’t let me pay you. Come on – whatever you want tonight? It’s on me.” He crossed his arms and raised a brow. Despite his blonde, surfer boy good looks, his stance betrayed the stubbornness that probably came with being raised by a SHIELD agent.

Skye bit her lip. “Chili cheese fries? And maybe one of your club melt sandwiches on rye?”

“You got it.” He walked back to the kitchen to place her order, and Skye took another sip of the whisky, savoring the smooth notes. It was a pricey bottle, and not something she normally indulged in. Maybe her week was looking up.

***

Grant Ward sat at a corner table across from the bar, nursing his beer as he halfheartedly watched the basketball game playing. It was damn cold for mid-December in D.C., and an early freeze the day before had made the roads a mess.

After turning in the 0-8-4 he and his team had recovered and debriefing with Agent Coulson and Commander Hill, Ward had left his motorcycle parked in the parking deck of the Triskelion, deciding to walk to his apartment. But upon passing McGillevrey’s he’d stepped inside, suddenly eager to get out of the cold and wind down with a beer.

It had been a long week. His team had spent the last month in Europe tracking a rogue Special Forces unit that had taken possession of an 0-8-4 and were attempting to sell it to the highest bidder. After tracking the team, Ward and Natasha Romanoff had gone in as potential buyers only to find their cover had been blown before they ever got there. When the team moved in, Agent Tom Hilliard took a bullet in the neck and bled out before they could get him to the medics.

It happened. Any agent of SHIELD went into the field knowing it could be their last time, and they were taught to compartmentalize those concerns. Ward might be a master when it came to compartmentalizing, but he was allowing himself this night to mourn the loss of a fellow agent and comrade in arms.

“Thought I might find you here.”

Ward looked up to see Natasha approaching his booth. “You must be bored if you have nothing better to do than track me down at a bar.”

She shrugged, taking a seat across from him in the red leather booth. “It’s on my way home. And I know you and Hilliard go way back – came up together in SHIELD. I wanted to make sure you’re dealing.”

“I’m dealing,” he replied shortly, taking another sip of his beer. “But thanks for the concern.”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully, brushing her straight red hair behind one ear and crossing her arms on the table. “You know the problem with specialists?”

Ward raised a brow, waiting.

“We like to think we’re bulletproof. And I’m not talking about actual bullets. We know we can die – I think we’ve all come to terms with that. But the emotional hits? Those are the ones we have to worry about.”

Ward turned his gaze to the bar, catching the bartender’s eye and motioning for another round. And just like she had when he first walked in, the girl sitting there captured his attention. For one thing, she didn’t look remotely like an agency type – CIA or SHIELD. He supposed she could be an analyst, but she had a free spirit vibe that didn’t quite fit that profile.

Her hair was long and wavy, a rich shade of honey brown that reflected the lights of the bar. Dressed in dark wash skinny jeans, black boots and a red, scoop neck sweater that molded to every curve of her slight build nicely, his wasn’t the only eye she’d caught in the bar. He’d already watched her turn a couple of guys away when they approached her, and he’d found himself following her movements when she went to the restroom.

When she returned, he finally got a good look at her face. Large, almond shaped brown eyes dominated her delicate features; no doubt about it, she was beautiful. She was definitely not an agent, though. She’d been engaged in conversation with A.J. off and on since he’d come in, so it was possible she was here because they were friends.

Natasha stuck around long enough for one beer and then left him to his own brooding thoughts, seeming to understand he preferred being alone. But once he was alone, his attention drifted back to the bar and the girl. Skye, he’d heard A.J. call her. It was an unusual name but it fit her.

Ward’s phone buzzed, and he saw that it was Garrett calling, which probably meant they’d been tapped for another mission. Ordinarily he’d welcome it since too much down time tended to make him feel restless, but today he felt a bone deep weariness seeping into every muscle and fiber of his being. He stepped outside to take the call, and Garrett confirmed his suspicion. They’d be leaving again the following day.

Wiping a hand down his face, Ward went back inside to settle his tab. As he approached the bar, he saw that Skye was no longer alone. A SHIELD agent that Ward had met before but had never worked with was sitting on the bar stool beside her. And judging by her body language, he appeared to be making a nuisance of himself. Ward remembered the man was a level 4 foot soldier named Anderson. Even around the Triskelion he was a cocky little son of a bitch, and it seemed that attitude extended to his off time as well.

“One drink,” Anderson said insistently.

“Is English not your first language?” Skye retorted. “Then again, ‘No?’ It’s pretty universal.”

Anderson responded by laughing and attempting to put his arm around her, causing her to tilt off her stool as she tried to avoid him.

Ward reached out and steadied her gently before turning to face Anderson with a stony gaze. “Walk away.”

Anderson stood up so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. Clearly he recognized Ward as well. “Sorry. I was just…”

“You were just leaving,” Ward told him.

He didn’t move towards the other man or make any threats, but the threat was implied, and Anderson was no fool. Nodding, he headed back to a group of agents at one of the pool tables. They’d all paused to observe the brief scene between Ward and Anderson, but swiftly turned their attention back to their game.

When Ward glanced over at Skye, she was watching him.

“That was impressive,” she said. “Thanks.”

Ward nodded and turned back to his table, deciding to finish his beer and make sure Anderson took the hint about leaving Skye alone. Another thirty minutes wouldn’t hurt.

***

Skye nibbled her bottom lip and tried not to stare at the tall, dark haired agent who’d sent Anderson packing with the ease of a picnicker squashing a bothersome ant. She’d run into Anderson at the Triskelion before and couldn’t stand him. Based on the way Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious had looked at Anderson, he felt the same way, which made her wonder if they knew each other.

She definitely hadn’t seen the man around the agency before. She’d definitely have remembered him if she had. Then again not all agents were assigned to the Triskelion on a permanent basis. Many of them came and went depending on their assignments, and her mysterious savior had that edgy, dangerous energy that so many of the specialists exhibited. If he was a specialist, it was no wonder Anderson had hightailed it back to his side of the bar.

A.J. returned from the back of the bar, and she waved him over. “You see that guy behind me? The one sitting alone in the booth. Do you recognize him?”

A.J. turned his attention to the corner booth. “He’s SHIELD. I don’t know his name, though. He sometimes passes through here when he’s in town, which isn’t often. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s a specialist. Why? Was he bothering you?”

Skye shook her head. “The opposite, actually. He sent Anderson packing with his tail between his legs with like, six words.”

Scowling, A.J. said, “I’m going to start banning that little prick from the bar if he can’t take a hint when a lady tells him no.”

“I was thinking of walking over there and sharing my bottle,” Skye said, raising a brow. “He looks a little uptight, but he can’t be all bad if he hates Anderson as much as we do.”

He laughed at that and passed her a clean tumbler. “I’ll keep an eye out, but he’s not the troublemaking type. I’ve seen him around, so I think you’re safe enough.”

Skye grabbed the bottle and clean glass in one hand and her own glass in the other, took a deep breath, and crossed the bar to the corner booth where Agent Broody sat nursing a beer while watching a basketball game. However, his eyes shifted to her immediately as she entered his field of vision.

When she reached his booth, Skye held up the bottle. “Can I buy you a drink? I’ve got the good stuff here.”

She could almost see the refusal coming, but after staring at her thoughtfully for a moment, he surprised her by nodding.

Skye set the bottle and glasses on the table and slid in beside him rather than across from him. It was a circular booth, so he had room to move away from her if he wanted to, but she noted that he didn’t move too far.

Pouring him a double, she slid the glass over and held out her hand. “I’m Skye.”

She shivered slightly as his much larger hand engulfed hers. “Grant.”

“Thanks for that, by the way. I could have handled him, but it was nice to have some backup.”

“You don’t really seem like the type to be drinking alone,” Grant commented, taking a sip of his scotch. “And this is a good bottle.”

Skye shrugged. “A.J.’s gift to me for a lousy damn week. I was supposed to meet a couple of friends here after work, but they ended up having to stay late.”

“What do you do?” he asked.

“I work with computers,” she answered vaguely. “And you’re an agent of SHIELD.”

His expression changed, closing off slightly. “And why do you think that?”

“I got the impression you and Anderson had crossed paths before, and A.J. said he’d seen you around.”

Skye sipped her own scotch and considered telling him that she also worked for SHIELD but then decided against it. Regardless of the fact that the Triskelion was massive and they were unlikely to ever run across each other there, he looked like the kind of guy who didn’t mix business and pleasure. She didn’t want to give him a reason to shut her down.

“Hmm. I’m not in town that often,” Grant told her.

“I’ve lived in D.C. for two years now,” she said. “Before that it was Austin, L.A., and a few places in between. I’m still getting used to the winters here.”

“This town’s not for everyone.”

Skye refilled their glasses and relaxed against the back of the booth, allowing the pleasant warmth from the scotch to infuse her limbs. “No.” She clinked her glass against his. “Drink up, baby. This scotch is doing a very good job of banishing the suck.”

They were both silent for a couple of minutes as they enjoyed the scotch, and it struck her that it should have felt uncomfortable but didn’t.

“You said you had a bad week?”

She looked up at him, and the way his dark eyes focused in on her as if she were the only person in the world at that exact moment was more than a little flattering. She wondered if anyone else had ever looked at her like that or if she’d ever felt so much awareness of another person before. She told herself not to get carried away. He was a man, not a Prince Charming. She’d lived too long with the realities of the world to fool herself into thinking otherwise.

Still, she found herself giving him a condensed version. “Something happened at work – it was bad. And it wasn’t my fault, but…”

“But sometimes it stays with you. Fault doesn’t matter,” Grant said.

“Yeah,” she said, playing with the glass in her hand. “And then someone I trusted lied to me. He’d been lying to me for a while, apparently. I thought I was smarter than that. Then I broke a heel and yes, I know – they’re just shoes. But they were Jimmy Choos, and they were a birthday present. And a taxi doused me with water on my way home one day, and the next morning? A pipe burst in the bathroom because of this damn freeze. It was just one thing on top of another.”

Grant couldn’t contain his smile when she mentioned breaking the heel on her designer shoes, and she was amazed by how it transformed his features. He was handsome – classically so. Of course she’d noticed that before. With his high, sharp cheekbones, deep set eyes and patrician nose, he definitely stood out in a crowd in ways that had little to do with his above average height. Add to that the broad shoulders and clearly defined muscles, and she was surprised someone like him was still single.

She’d checked out his ring finger, noticing no suspicious tan lines. Skye knew that didn’t mean he didn’t have a girlfriend, but she somehow doubted that he did simply because of the nature of his job. She’d met a few of the SHIELD specialists, and they were all solitary by nature. Tripp was more the exception to that rule, but he admitted that he’d asked for the transfer to the Triskelion because the constant moving and deep cover ops had chipped away at his humanity and his ability to trust others outside his team.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Wow – she had not meant to just come out with the question so bluntly. She considered her nearly empty glass of scotch, wondering if she should be cutting herself off.

Grant’s lips quirked, clearly amused by her bluntness. “No. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No. Boyfriend?” If he could tease, so could she.

He shook his head. “You?”

“As of Tuesday, no.” She drained her glass and eyed the bottle. What the hell. She poured a little more and offered him the bottle.

He topped off his own glass. “The liar?”

“Got it in one,” she confirmed. “But he didn’t break my heart – just bruised it a little. We’d only been dating about four months.”

“That’s good – that he didn’t break your heart. You deserve better than that,” Grant told her, his expression serious.

Skye smiled at him. “Yeah? How do you know that?”

“I have good instincts.”

Over the next hour, they finished the bottle and kept the conversation flowing. At some point Skye had moved closer to Grant, and he didn’t move away. The heat from his body warmed her even more than the scotch, and she found herself wanting to get even closer.

She could ask him to come home with her. It was bold, but she could be bold, especially with a little liquid courage flowing through her veins. She’d done it before, once – invited someone home with her knowing that it would only be for one night. She’d been a lot younger and dumber at the time, but it hadn’t turned out too badly.

Skye felt like this was a moment, one she should seize. Grant, by his own admission, wasn’t around that often. Chances were she’d never see him again after tonight, so this might be her only opportunity to find out if he was as intense in the bedroom as he was out of it. And she really, really wanted to know the answer to that question.

Grant went to the bathroom and Skye got her coat and bag from A.J., who’d been keeping them behind the bar. “Am I crazy if I ask Agent Hottie to come home with me?”

A.J. looked surprised. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” she stated firmly. “Okay, maybe a little, but not enough to impair my judgment that much. I still think Anderson is a douchecanoe.”

Shrugging, A.J. said, “I’m assuming you don’t need any safe sex talks, so… have fun? Maybe send me a text in the morning so I know you’re still alive.”

“You said I was safe enough, and he’s a SHIELD agent,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, well, so is Agent Douchecanoe,” he replied dryly. “I do think he’s a good guy, though. He was sitting with Agent Romanoff earlier.”

That gave her pause. “Really?”

Agent Romanoff was well known in SHIELD circles, and Skye found herself wondering again about his last name. Most of the specialists were known either by code names – The Cavalry, Mockingbird, and Black Widow – or simply by their last names. She was increasingly certain he was a high level specialist, but the name Grant didn’t mean anything to her.

Skye saw Grant walking back from the back of the bar and smiled at A.J.  “Thanks for listening earlier. Wish me luck?”

A.J. smiled at that. “He’s had his eye on you since he got here. I really don’t think you’ll need it.”

Huh – she hadn’t realized Grant had noticed her before Anderson made such an ass of himself. Truthfully, she wasn’t a hundred percent certain that Grant would say yes even though she was sure he was attracted to her. Reading people and calling their intentions was something she was usually pretty good at. She’d learned early at the orphanage, and she’d repeatedly put those skills to use in both her personal life and in her job.

But a guy like Grant was a much more difficult read than the average man she encountered, and she was uncharacteristically nervous as she walked back to the booth. He was standing beside the table, waiting for her, and an odd expression crossed his face. Disappointment?

“Headed out?” he asked.

“It’s getting late,” she replied, placing her bag on the table and slipping her coat on. _Just do it_ , she told herself. “But I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“I was thinking you could come with me,” she said, looking up to meet his eyes as she finished buttoning her coat.

His brows drew together. “Come with you?”

“My place,” she explained, feeling heat creeping into her cheeks. God, was she blushing? She was really out of practice.

Grant was looking at her intently, as if seeking the answer to some question he hadn’t voiced. But he didn’t say anything, and when the silence stretched out into a full minute, Skye felt sure he was going to decline and tell her to have a nice night. She looked away, suddenly a little embarrassed, and reached for the cream knit crochet beanie hat she’d bought from a street vendor the previous weekend while out shopping with Jemma.

Instead of the hat, her fingers connected with Grant’s. She paused, and he picked up the hat and slipped it on for her, running his fingers through her hair as he pushed it over her shoulders. Something dark and hot squirmed low in her belly – butterflies, or possibly alien creatures.

“Yes.”

One word, but it was the one she’d wanted to hear. Skye smiled up at him. “Okay.”

Grant turned back to the booth for his own coat. He pulled it on and then reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “Your tab is settled?”

Skye nodded and watched as he walked over to the bar to pay his own before returning to her side. He held out his hand and she took it, following him out of the bar and into the cold, wintry air.

“We need to catch the bus,” Skye told him. “My apartment is two stops down.”

He nodded and led her to the bus stop across the street. It was just before midnight, and the streets weren’t as busy as they’d been earlier, probably due to the deteriorating road conditions. She didn’t even see any taxis, and there were usually always a few around.

“They salted the roads,” Grant said. “That’s probably why the buses are still running.”

“That’s good.” Skye said, looking up at him. Something about the shadows and moonlight suited him, and she shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. Without allowing any time to second guess herself, Skye grasped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down until their lips met.

He didn’t hesitate at all; strong arms wrapped around her, and Skye slid a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, leveraging the position for added height as she stood on the tips of her toes. Their lips brushed together in soft kisses before Grant moved a hand to her jaw, coaxing her to open to him.

They pulled apart when the bus arrived, and Skye felt a fluid shakiness in her legs as she followed him up the steps. He kept her hand firmly in his on the short ride to her neighborhood, his thumb tracing small patterns against her fingers. Whatever this was between them – attraction, want, desire – was strong, stronger than anything she’d felt with anyone else, and it was a little scary.

Grant must have sensed her sudden bout of nerves because he tipped her chin up, his gaze steady as her eyes met his. “I can leave you at your door and go home, Skye. We’re not locked into anything here.”

“No. That’s not what I want,” she said softly, and then laughed. “God, I’m acting like a virgin on prom night. I just don’t usually do this sort of thing.”

Grant raised his other hand and traced her cheekbone down to her lips. “Neither do I, but…”

“But?” she prompted when he paused.

“But I noticed you as soon as I walked into the bar tonight,” he finally continued, thumb still stroking gently against her cheek. “It’s been a bad day, and something about you made it seem a little brighter.”

Skye got the distinct impression he didn’t often share his feelings, and she wondered what exactly had happened. There was something in his eyes; sadness, maybe, or loneliness that she guessed he usually internalized rather than shared.

“I’m glad,” she said, choosing not to push for more details. Whatever it was, she knew better than to think she could fix it, or fix him. But maybe for one night, she could drive away those feelings and make him forget.

They arrived at her stop, and Skye grasped Grant’s hand again as they walked down the block until they reached a row of brownstones. Skye led him up the steps of the first one and used her key to open the front door before going up the two flights of stairs to her small apartment.

When she unlocked the door, Grant put a hand on her arm. “Skye, you should know I’m leaving tomorrow. I don’t want you to think this is something it’s not.”

She appreciated the fact that he was trying to be honest with her; regardless, her stomach sank a little with his words. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t imagining white picket fences when I asked you to come home with me. I just wanted to know.”

He followed her inside, locking the door behind them. Skye switched on the lamp and removed her hat and coat, tossing them over the back of her armchair, and Grant did the same before turning to her. “Know what?”

“What it would feel like,” she admitted. Like many of the decisions she’d made in her life, having a one night stand probably wasn’t smart. She just didn’t care, and she didn’t think she was going to regret it even if he was leaving tomorrow.

Then she couldn’t think because he was kissing her again, his earlier gentleness giving way to the intensity she’d sensed in him at the bar. He’d obviously been holding back, and she reveled in the feel of his hands gripping the soft curves of her hips as he lifted her. Her apartment was small – just the living room/kitchen combo, a bathroom, and her bedroom – so a few steps took them right to the foot of her full size bed.

Skye wasted no time in pushing his black pullover up and over his head. She ran her hands over his broad shoulders and the strong, smooth muscles there before tracing the taut ridges of his abdomen. Then she kissed his chest while she reached for his belt buckle, divesting him of his jeans in one smooth move.

Clad in his black boxer briefs, Grant slowly undressed her, taking his time and touching each new bit of skin revealed with long, nimble fingers. Skye backed away from him and unhooked her bra, removing it slowly. Her breath hitched as his large hands cupped her breasts, and callouses on his palms rubbed against her over-sensitive skin.

She sat on the bed and scooted up against the headboard, kicking the blankets down and out of her way. Then she lay back against the pillows and motioned for him to follow.

He paused, thumbs hooked into his briefs. “Condoms? This wasn’t my plan for tonight, so I don’t have anything.”

Skye reached into the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out two, tossing them onto the bed. “Alright, Agent Hotpants – lose the briefs.”

That got a choked laugh from him, but he did as she asked before sliding into the bed beside her. “Agent Hotpants? Really?”

“Codenames are sexy,” she quipped, leaning against the pillows once more and pulling him with her. She felt like the whole evening had been a prolonged sort of foreplay, and it was driving her crazy. He kissed her, hard, and she moaned when his mouth moved to her neck because he was really, _really_ good with his mouth.

She didn’t realize she’d said the words aloud until he drew back and murmured, “I’m going to make you feel good everywhere.”

The butterflies and aliens of earlier that evening erupted in her stomach once more, squirming in delight as he moved to her breasts, nibbling and sucking lightly before moving lower still. She didn’t even remember him removing her underwear, but he must have because they were gone, and his tongue traced patterns against her sensitive flesh that literally made her see stars.

It could have been minutes or hours later when Skye opened her eyes again. Grant was running his hand up and down her body, the light movement belying the desire and need in his dark eyes. She could feel him against her thigh, and she reached for one of the condoms. He took it from her, opening the package and rolling it on before moving over her.

His body on hers, between her thighs, was a sensual shock to her senses. He was heavy, his hard planes molded to her soft curves, and she needed more. When she bucked up against him urgently, he complied and pushed deep inside, eliciting a moan from her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pausing to sweep her hair back away from her face.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip as he moved again. “That. Keep doing that.”

He kept the pace steady even when she tried to speed it up, and she thought the waiting might kill her. Each heavy movement of his body on hers, inside her, sent shockwaves through her belly that made her toes curl, and she was actually whimpering with need by the time he sped up, allowing the waves of completion to crash over them both.

Afterwards he held his weight off of her but didn’t move away for long minutes, and Skye held him, stroking his neck and back with gentle fingers. It had been more intense and intimate than she’d imagined, and whether he said it aloud or not, she suspected he’d felt it too. When he finally rolled away, she pulled the blankets up and watched him walk into the bathroom.

Would he leave now or stay? She wanted him to stay, badly. Suddenly, she wanted a lot of things she knew better than to want from a man like Grant.

 _Keep it light_ , she reminded herself. Even if he wanted to see her again, she didn’t think he’d been lying about leaving town again tomorrow. She hadn’t asked for excuses, and she didn’t think he was the type of man to make them.

She half expected him to make a hasty exit, but he didn’t. Instead he slid back into bed beside her and drew her against his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair. Something loosened in her chest, and she sighed in relief. Even if he was gone tomorrow, the fact that he was here now meant something.

They didn’t talk, and the slow way his fingers slid through her hair eventually lulled her to sleep.

***

Grant awoke promptly at 5:30 as he did most mornings. Between rounds two and three, he hadn’t slept long, and Skye was still deeply asleep beside him. The real surprise was that he had slept at all. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in the same bed with a woman. Sex was one thing, but he usually required solitude in order to really sleep.

He needed to go. The sun was breaking the horizon, and his unit would be moving out in a few hours. Yet he lingered, drawing Skye close and smiling when she muttered against his chest before settling down again. Thirty minutes passed, and then an hour. Grant reluctantly moved away from the woman beside him and got up, dressing quickly.

The wintry sun cast a glow upon Skye’s bedroom, or maybe the glow was from Skye herself. She slept on between the bars of sunlight streaming through the blinds, oblivious to the way it kissed her skin and hair and made her look so warm and inviting. Grant pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly snapped a picture, wanting to capture that moment.

It was sentimental – uncharacteristically so. It should concern him, but it didn’t. Like everything else in his life, he knew he could compartmentalize this unexpected night with Skye. But every once in a while, he might want to remember, too.

Skye shivered, and he pulled the comforter more snugly around her, running his fingers through her hair once more before turning and walking out of the bedroom. He pulled on his coat and quietly left the apartment, making sure the lock caught behind him.

Outside the world was cold and quiet, and Grant welcomed the chill. He’d need to get used to that again.

**A/N – So, this was part one of the series “The Head and the Heart.” I’ve outlined it at 7 parts, and I’ll post them as they’re completed. The series was inspired by a song called “Your Head and Your Heart” by The Saint Johns because I feel that really applies to Grant Ward – his heart wants one thing and his head tells him something else. This first installment was (loosely) inspired by the song “Between the Bars” by Elliott Smith. Basically, I took the titles for each installment from song titles or lyrics that I thought applied in some small way (whether it was one line here or there.) The others are as follows:**

**Part 2 – Remember when (can we push rewind?)** – _Six months have passed, and Ward sees Skye again at the Triskelion. Unfortunately, she’s no longer single._

 **Part 3 – The only exception (is where the lines overlap)** – _Skye’s first time in the field doesn’t exactly go as planned. Ward realizes that there are exceptions to his hard rules, and Skye is a big one._

 **Part 4 – When your heart is in it (but your head just isn’t)** – _Skye breaks protocol and pulls Ward out of a sticky situation he encounters on one of his ops. Upon returning to D.C., he decides to pull back._

 **Part 5 – Love is a fragile little flame (it can burn out)** – _When Skye can no longer ignore her growing feelings for Ward, she breaks it off with her boyfriend, only to find that Ward may have moved on. A field op goes drastically wrong._

 **Part 6 – This is what it feels like (and it hurts)** – _Skye’s life hangs in the balance, and_ _Ward is forced to confront his feelings head on for the first time._

 **Part 7 – Bumper cars (I’ll crash into you)** – _As Skye recovers and returns to work, Ward can no longer compartmentalize things where she’s concerned. One night changes everything between them, but not for the better._

**Don’t worry! It’s a bit angsty in places, but I’m all about making them happy in the end. Hope you enjoyed the first installment! More coming soon, but next up is Chapter 9 of “Under My Skin.” Thanks for reading!**


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